


Save All Your Kisses

by francisabernathy



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-09
Updated: 2014-05-09
Packaged: 2018-01-24 03:27:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1590002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/francisabernathy/pseuds/francisabernathy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There’s a knock on the door. There’s no wondering who it is. Steve hesitates for the slightest moment before he opens it, though – Bucky’s been at Basic three months, and it’s silly – and selfish – but he can’t help wondering if Bucky had changed. Had filled out a bit more, even though he didn’t need to, or if he’d just become like one of those regular Army types Steve saw on the newsreels.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Save All Your Kisses

**Author's Note:**

> If Steve didn't enlist the night Bucky shipped off to England but instead stayed and tried to live on sold pictures. Bucky comes home after three months of Basic.

It’s hot. Seven in the evening and the sun is refusing to come down. Steve’s cucumber soup is chilling in the fridge and he’s sitting at the kitchen table, drawing out a silly cartoon Bucky with multiple medals.

There’s a knock on the door. There’s no wondering who it is. Steve hesitates for the slightest moment before he opens it, though – Bucky’s been at Basic three months, and it’s silly – and selfish – but he can’t help wondering if Bucky had changed. If he had filled out a bit more, even though he didn’t need to, or if he’d just become like one of those regular Army types Steve saw on the newsreels. He just wanted Bucky back.

When he opens the door, Bucky is leaning against it, and he nearly falls in the apartment. He’s smiling. 

“Hi there, soldier,” Steve says, and he mock salutes. Bucky does one of his little lopsided smiles and grabs his bag, walking inside with his big heavy boots and his presence just fills the room in a way Steve’s missed since he left for Basic.

“Missed you,” Steve says, low. He isn’t sure what to do. Everything’s been different since Bucky left. Steve’s unsure as to how far he’s allowed to go, what he’s allowed to do. 

Bucky dumps his bag on his bed and comes back into the kitchen, where Steve’s mopping up the hob with the last of the warm water. He’s been saving up money from his drawings to take Bucky out properly, but he hasn’t got quite enough yet, so it’s soup for tonight. He gives this little hopeful smile at Bucky as he leans against the counter, undoing the top button of his uniform.

“You alright there, Stevie?” Bucky wanders over to him. He still hasn’t taken his boots off. It’s early evening and Bucky clearly hasn’t shaved in a couple of days because there’s a fine shade of dark on his lower face and neck. Steve scrubs excessively at the hob. 

“Just dandy,” Steve mumbles, and Bucky moves closer to him, putting his hands on his shoulders and rubbing. He’s all tense. Lost in the sensation of Bucky working at his muscles he lolls his head back, looking up at Bucky and grinning. “Should be me doing this.”

“Shouldn’t have left,” Bucky says, and his hands stop moving. Steve turns around, slow, and then he’s turned to face Bucky, who is suddenly very tall, broad and overbearing in his uniform.

Steve’s suddenly so overwhelmed he can barely breathe.

“Missed you,” Steve mutters, barely audible. He says it again, louder. Bucky stares down at him, and then he lowers his face slightly and kisses him, lightly at first and then suddenly Steve’s got a surging mass of Bucky in his arms, all broad-shouldered and tanned.

Bucky bites his bottom lip, gets an arm around his neck and hauls him closer. “Fucking–” He breaks off, and they bump noses. It’s enough to send them back to Earth, but Steve tilts his face up again and peppers kisses on Bucky’s jaw, Bucky’s neck, kissing the skin until it’s red and raw and Steve’s left a little mark that for once doesn’t matter. Bucky doesn’t have to leave the apartment for the next two weeks, if he doesn’t want to.

“Did you really miss me?” Steve asks. The stove probably isn’t the best place to be here, and he nudges Bucky away until he moves to lean against the counter. On second thoughts, he draws the curtain and sits on the counter, legs open wide like a regular boy sits, and Bucky enters the space as easily and as possessively if it had been marked with his name.

“Of course I did,” Bucky says, nuzzling at Steve’s bare shoulder. His shirt, only half buttoned anyway, has slipped off in the ruckus. Bucky’s stubble itches his skin but Steve lets it slide, content to hold Bucky in his arms for a few minutes more. “Couldn’t sleep for the first few days, not without you cuddled with me. Beds are too cold for one person.”

“Thought Basic might have changed you,” Steve says, and now he’s voiced his fears they suddenly seem too real, but also too foolish. He wishes he could take it back. Bucky looks stunned.

“You thought it might knock the fairy out of me?” Bucky spits out after a minute of silence, brushing the hair out of his eyes. “It’s gonna take…” He kisses Steve again, just a light one – “a lot more than Basic to do that.” 

He kisses Steve again. Steve only realised now how badly he’s trembling, and he slides a hand around Bucky’s neck and holds him there, never mind the awkwardness of the pose they’re in or the uncomfortable feeling that’ll soon move into cramp in his legs.

Bucky leans back when he starts wheezing when they kiss for too long. He stares up at him, with these big, reproachful eyes, like he’s wondering why Steve’s asthma would dare rob him of such a thing as his welcome back kiss.

“Your stubble,” Steve says, once he’s got some air back, “it’s scratching at me.”

Bucky grins. “You don’t like it?”

Steve whines. “I do, just not when it’s scratching at me like a cat,” he complains, and in retaliation Bucky kisses him again.

Steve points at the kitchen chair. It’s left pulled out from where he was sitting earlier, drawings messy in pile and his pencil on top. “I’m gonna … you want a shave?”

Bucky’s eyes are gleaming. “Certainly I do,” he says, and he moves away from Steve’s legs and flops in the chair, taking off his Army jacket, shirt, tie and shoes, leaving him with just an undershirt and his trousers and socks. Steve near whimpers, holding it in with a swallow.

He darts into the bathroom, grabbing two dry flannels and the razor and the soap from the shelf. When he moves back into the kitchen, Bucky’s flicking through his drawings. Years ago, that would have irritated Steve. His drawings were the expression of his thoughts, his dreams – and anyone seeing something so intensely private had humiliated him. Now, he comes to expect Bucky’s noseying, and Bucky’s always been nothing but praise and constructive criticism.

“These are really good, Stevie,” Bucky says, voice low. “You’ve gotten even better since I left. I didn’t know that was possible.”

Steve blushes. “Yeah,” he says as a response, because the less money he gets from them and the more he spends on pencils and paper is starting to add up, until he looks at the ones that don’t sell and he starts to hate the lines he’s drawn.

Steve had always looked down at himself and had seen incapable. Bucky had always seen different things. 

He wants to voice his thoughts. “Lay your head back,” he says instead, and he lays the rolled flannel underneath Bucky’s neck to pillow it. He fidgets, but Bucky is obedient, eyes flicking around the kitchen to follow Steve as he darts around, preparing. He grabs a bowl of semi-warm water and places it on the table, moving the drawings out of harm’s way.

The second towel he dampens with the last of the warm water and then he lathers his hands up with soap, stands behind Bucky and washes his face, cleaning off the grease and dirty air that comes from living in New York and working at a training camp for weeks. He pats Bucky’s face off with the towel to get rid of the soap and then lays the damp flannel on Bucky’s face and neck, pressing it firmly to get the hairs all soft. Steve’s never shaved anyone else apart from himself before. He wants this to be perfect.

Then comes the next bit. Bucky opens his mouth to say something but Steve kisses him, beating him to the punch – and _oh fuck_ , Steve didn’t realise upside down kisses could be so sexy. Bucky moans into his mouth, fingers twitching at how he can’t grab at Steve to get him closer, so Steve uses his vantage point to move away and smirk at Bucky as he whines.

Steve closes his mouth, his beautiful thick lips with a finger and applies the soap with the shaving stick, getting as much as possible on so that he doesn’t cut Bucky open. God knows he’s probably got enough scars and wounds from his training, and then he has to go off for sniper training. Steve’s stomach turns at the thought of it, so he grabs at the razor and holds it above Bucky’s face, where he can see.

“Sure you trust me enough not to kill you, Buck?” Steve says, the silver of the razor gleaming in the light from the kitchen lamp. He probably looks quite sinister, and he fights the urge to laugh.

“Because you’re oh so dangerous,” Bucky looks up at him, straight in the eyes, smiling with his closed mouth. He’s mocking him. Steve waves the razor around, baring his teeth and trying to look threatening. It clearly doesn’t work, because Bucky’s not very good at stifling his laughter.

“Now shut up,” Steve says, “I need to concentrate.”

Bucky nods and lays his head back again, eyes darting around Steve’s face. Steve starts from the top of the stubble Bucky has – and he doesn’t really know what to call it, because it’s halfway between a little beard and some serious stubble – and works downward, scraping the hair off with strong strokes. 

Bucky is still, utterly still and unflinching, watching Steve’s progress with his eyes, locking straight onto his. 

He didn’t know it would be quite such an intimate process. He finishes Bucky’s face and realises he has to move onto Bucky’s neck, a procedure he’s not quite sure how to accomplish. Bucky stays still, unblinking, completely relaxed and Steve moves around him, pulling the skin of his neck up with his fingers and going against the grain so that it’s a smooth shave. 

Steve’s careful, oh so careful, and by the time he’s finished Bucky is just keeping it together. He’s managed it with no nicks or cuts and he applies the still-damp flannel to Bucky’s face.

When Steve moves away, a quick kiss to Bucky’s neck as he does so, he realises Bucky’s quivering. He’s just keeping it together.

“You alright there, Buck?” Steve asks, all casual-like, and Bucky raises his head up all stiff, and he’s hard, so fucking hard it must be painful. “Didn’t know you found the idea of me with a knife in my hand so erotic,” he adds, throwaway, and Bucky full on _whines __._

Bucky breaks first, kissing him once more, propelling him forward by a hand on his waist and another on his neck. Steve straddles him, slightly back from Bucky’s crotch to make things easier, and at least this way they’re on an equal footing. 

“Oh fuck,” he says, as Steve kisses him, strokes his way down Bucky’s stomach with his fingers, “you don’t even know how long I’ve been waiting for this, Stevie-” He’s babbling. Steve shuts him up with another kiss and undoes his belt buckle, fondling at Bucky’s dick through his trousers.

“If you do that,” Bucky warns, moving his head down, lips against his neck, “I will come. Right now.”

Steve laughs, giggles bubbling against Bucky’s temples. “So sure about that,” he replies, and he gets a hold of Bucky’s cock and strokes it, and if it wasn’t for Bucky using his mouth to make bruises bloom on Steve’s neck he would have moaned outright.

“Shut up,” Steve says, just at the same time he twists his hand and mouths at Bucky’s temple. 

Bucky nods, using a hand to grab at Steve’s chin and bring him back down for a kiss. This way, Bucky can moan into his mouth, and Steve’s never felt sexier than this. He twists his hand again and Bucky comes into his hand, all over his underwear and Steve’s hands.

“Fuck,” Bucky says, leaning his head back after he’s gotten over himself. “Needed that. Boys sneaked in pin-up magazines but I couldn’t jerk off to that. Needed you.”

Steve blushes again, a faint bloom of pride that colours his cheeks. 

“Love you,” Bucky says, moving his head forward. “Gonna show you.”

“You are?” Steve taunts, and Bucky pushes him off his legs and gets off the chair, telling Steve to sit down and Bucky falls to his knees, and he’s still in his Army trousers, dick hanging out and he’s a mess, a complete debauched mess, sexy as hell and all Steve’s. 

Steve spreads his legs wide, as wide as they’ll go. He taunts Bucky with it, undoing himself and letting Bucky get a good look before he can touch. Bucky’s on his knees, thirsty for it, thirsty for a dick in his mouth after three long months, and Steve’ll be damned if he lets this go any faster than what he intends to.

Bucky gets all up close and personal, licking at the tip and sucking with his lips, getting right between Steve’s thighs and mouthing at the pale white skin. “So pretty,” he murmurs, and Steve pushes at the back of his neck with his hand, only gently. Bucky takes the hint and dives in, taking Steve as far as he can take it, gagging slightly but not even moving back. It doesn’t take much for Steve to come; he’s not as nearly as needy as Bucky, but he’s missed Bucky’s warm, hot mouth as much as he’s missed Bucky’s presence in his bed.

“Bucky – I’m gonna –” Steve pushes at Bucky’s head with a frantic urge. Bucky doesn’t enjoy swallowing, only does it when he has to, but Bucky isn’t letting off and Steve’s restraint only goes so far. He comes with a shout that’s blocked by his left hand up against his mouth and Bucky draws back, head lying on Steve’s thigh, making a face but still seemingly content.

“That was …” Bucky closes his eyes. “That was something.”

Steve colours, embarrassed. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Bucky says, nuzzling at his thigh. “We needed that.”

Steve lays his hands on Bucky’s shoulders, massaging away the knots. “Still haven’t told me about Basic,” he says. He tucks himself back in and does up his trousers. 

Bucky laughs. “Not much to tell. Just a whole lot of hard work and missing my boy back home.”

Steve likes that. _My boy_. 

“Come on, soldier,” he says, standing up. Bucky sits crumpled at his feet, pulling his undershirt over his head, attempting to smooth his hair.

Bucky’s all clean-shaven and sated, sitting at his feet with a smile on his face to rival a pin-up’s. Best of all, Steve’s got his soldier back for two whole weeks. He leans down again and kisses Bucky deep, smiling against his lips.

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is my first Marvel fic :| Unbeta'd, because changing fandoms means I lose my beta, and I'm particularly fussy. All mistakes are mine. I'd really like to know how I did. Also, I'm English. We spell things differently. Thanks for reading ♥


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